> Storm Over Vegas
>  by Alden MacManx
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter One: Call Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hal Sleet glanced at the clock on the wall of the radio studio before opening the microphone. With a long-practiced motion, he dialed it up without overdoing it. “It’s ten minutes to six on a Friday afternoon. Before I hoof over Retro Radio Two to Pete Mahedrin, the leading cause of aspirin sales here in Vegas, I just want to take a few minutes to say goodbye to everyone.

                “Goodbye because monsoon season officially starts Monday, and your favorite Retro Radio deejay has been recalled to active duty with the Nevada Aeronautical Survey, or the nasty Nassies. Seems like they can’t do without the best storm buster in Vegas, so I won’t be back until the fall. Just remember, fellow pegasi, it does no good to do anything about the weather on your own. Talk about it first with Nassie staff before doing anything!

                “The station staff had a drawing to see who will fill in for me, and my producer, assistant, and all-around gold digger and bone biter, Malone Fonebone, drew the short straw, so he’s going to be filling in for me.” Hal said, glancing at the big diamond dog as he sat at his own console.

                Malone opened his own mic. “Of course, I drew the short straw, Mr. Sleet.” he said in his hoarse Cockney voice. “Everyone else used the paper from the printer. All I had was me notepad.”

                That comment was followed by a pause so pregnant, it delivered a filly, a colt and a litter of puppies before Hal audibly drew breath. By the time he spoke, a dragon’s egg to be named later was added to the list. “Fonebone, you have the brains of a five-year-old, and I’m sure he was glad to get rid of it.” Sleet managed to say in a long-suffering voice.

                “Oh, no, Mr. Sleet.” Fonebone said earnestly. “He was at least nine, I’m sure.”

                “Then he lied about his age, and you didn’t catch it. Go get me my evening coffee. I have an appearance tonight, and I need the stimulant.”

                “Roight, Mr. Sleet.” The diamond dog’s footsteps could be heard in the background as he walked to the coffee station.

                Hal turned his attention back to the microphone. “That’s right, Hal Sleet and the Dippy Hippies will be appearing at Rustler’s tonight from eight to ten, playing music from the sixties and seventies. I look forward to seeing all you great pones there, because it’s my last chance to do so for a few months. Maybe longer, because before I get back to the studio, I’m going to be a father. Lady Raven is set to deliver her foal in about six weeks. I’m looking forward to that!”

                Hal turned to accept the coffee mug Fonebone was passing to him. “Thanks, Boney.” He said before taking a sip. Next to be heard were sirens, car alarms, and a somewhat muted shriek of pain from Hal, followed by the sonorous tone of a foghorn before two seconds of silence.

                “Foney, I didn’t say use the high test…” Hal gasped.

                “You do have that show tonight, Mr. Sleet. You do need to be awake for that.” Fonebone said earnestly.

                “But I didn’t want to have to fly around Vegas three times to burn off excess power, you dimwitted Dalmatian!” Hal snapped back.

                “I am not a Dalmatian, I am an English Mastiff.” Fonebone said in his most pompous tones.

                “Oh, yeah? The only time your mast is stiff is when you’re up to your neck in ice water!” Hal riposted, his voice just a little raspy.

                “The wife, she likes it that way.” Fonebone sniffed.

                “That’s not what she told me last week.” Hal said snidely, turning his attention back to the microphones.

                “Okay, everypony, time for me to go kick Fonebone up one side of Mount Charleston and down the other. I’ll see you at Rustler’s tonight from eight to ten, and don’t be too hard on Boney while I’m gone. That’s mine and Stanley the Manager’s job.

                “Until the fall, everypony!” Hal called out before playing his typical weekend sign off tune, Bill Haley and the Comets classic ‘See you later, Alligator’.

                Making sure the microphone was off, Hal got off the controller’s bench to make way for Pete Mahedrin. “That last bit was hilarious, Hal. It was all I could do to not lose it in the studio!” the green and black earth pony laughed as he wiped down the bench before straddling it for his shift.

                “Fred came up with the idea. We hashed it out at the bottom break. It worked, didn’t it?” the grey pegasus with the rainbow kaleidoscopic mane and tail said, unwilling to keep a straight face, referring to Malone Fonebone’s real name, Fred Standring, a former British radio deejay who was vacationing in Vegas when the Event happened over thirty-two hundred years ago. Fred is also the music director for Retro Radio Two.

                “That it did, Hal. Be safe while working with Nassie, okay? We want you back.” Pete said, lining up his first songs for play.

                “I want to be back, too, Pete. By then, I’ll have a foal to raise. Can’t miss that, can I?” Hal said as he raised a hoof for a hoofbump, which was returned with a smile.

                “No, you shouldn’t. My best to Raven, and have fun tonight.” Pete said before paying attention to his music. Hal quietly made his way out of the studio, making sure the soundproof door was shut securely before falling to the floor, laughing loud and hard.

                Fred came by to help Hal get his feet under him again, trying to hide his own laughter, but not trying TOO hard. “Damn, we do good work together, don’t we?” he managed to say in his London tones.

                Hal finally got his breath back, standing shakily on his hooves. “After five years, it’s almost automatic between us. Our ‘rivalry’ is bringing in the ratings, and that’s what matters, right?”

                “Indeed, it does, Mr. Sleet.” Fred said, slipping back into Malone’s cockney accent, smiling broadly.

                “Okay, which of you came up with that comedy sketch?” Stanley Livingstone, the zebra station manager demanded seriously, stepping out of his office to glare at the two in the hallway.

                Fred and Hal both looked at Stanley, pointed at each other, and said in the same tone of voice, “He did, sir!” before collapsing in laughter.

                Stanley waited until the two calmed down. “It’s going to be hard without you till the fall, Hal.” He said, finally smiling some. Hal is his #1 rated deejay, and has been so since he arrived at Retro Radio Two five years before.

                “It’s going to be hard on me, too. Without having to worry about keeping this maniac under control” Hal said, pointing a wing at Fred, “All I have to worry about is not getting enough sleep when the foal arrives.”

                “You’ll manage, Hal. If I could do it, and Fred could do it, no reason you can’t.” Stanley said, Fred nodding in agreement. “Now, get going before Raven teleports here and drags you home!”


                “Good point, Stan. I’ll be in touch, even though I won’t be on air for you. I won’t be storm busting all the time!” Hal said with an easy smile. He hoofbumped Stanley and Fred before heading out of the building, taking wing and heading home in the hot Nevada late spring sun.   


Four ponies gathered in an office at NAS, three pegasi and a unicorn. Everypony wore thin shirts emblazoned with the NAS logo, a shadow outline of the former Stratosphere tower silhouetted against a white cumulus cloud, crossed by a yellow stylized lightning bolt.

                From behind the desk, the leader of NAS Weather Control, Colonel Silas Stormcloud, a pegasus with a two-toned fur pattern, light brown underside with a dark brown back, black mane and tail, wings the color of dust and a cutie mark of a cumulus cloud with a lightning bolt inside, called the meeting to order.

                “Okay, ponies, let’s get started. I need to get everything set for First Muster on Monday.” Silas said in his gravelly voice. A Returnee, he had arrived in Vegas thirty years before, a colonel in the USAF when human. Some ponies call him a forceful, dynamic leader. Others call him a tyrant. Who says what depends on how closely one worked with him.

                He spread an organizational chart out on the desk. Silas and his command staff, Turbulent Air, a blue and red pegasus with a swirly-line cutie mark in white, Elena Strong Wing, a chestnut mare with white wings whose cutie mark is three black feathers, and the unicorn is his logistics chief, Blue Star, yellow-coated with a green mane and a blue tail and horn, his cutie mark a blue eight-pointed star.

                Together, they hammered out who was going to go where, dividing up the list of volunteers. When Hal Sleet’s name came up, Silas assigned him to the training wing, supervising the rookies, staying well back from the front lines. “But, Colonel, I thought you wanted Sleet in Squadron One with you!” Elena complained. “He’s too good a storm breaker to be held back in Tango Flight!”

                Silas glared at his exec. “Major Strong Wing, who is in command here?” he growled.

                Elena looked back at Silas coolly, having worked with him for over a decade, and his exec for the past six storm seasons. “You are, Colonel. I just don’t understand why you would relegate Sleet to the trainee flight. Swift Rain is a much better teacher. Sleet’s skill is primarily inherent.”

                “Major Strong Wing, Sleet and I have been at loggerheads since he arrived. He is not properly respectful of command authority!”

                “You heard him tell you to piss up a rope in a thunderstorm after that one cell passed within half a mile of the edge of town last week, didn’t you? I’m wondering why you let it get that close myself.” Elena fired back.

                “Testing new methods of storm dispersal. If you do not approve, Major, you can resign your commission immediately, without prejudice.” Silas growled, his wings flaring some.

                “No way in hell, Colonel. I earned my way to where I am, and I’m not going to let you chase me out of it, you hear me?” Elena replied, her own wings flaring.

                “Major, do you have your lists and charts made out to your satisfaction?” the Colonel managed to say evenly, though his wings and ears belied his outward calm. “If so, you are dismissed to prepare. Blue Star will catch up with you later about logistics.”

                Elena snapped out a brisk wing salute, gathered up her share of the papers and did not quite stalk out of the office. Once the office door closed behind her, Silas muttered, “About time she got out of here.”

                Turbulent Air looked at his commanding officer. “You haven’t brought her in yet?” he asked.

                “I’m not going to. She’s too damn honest. You, me, Blue Star here, Flight One, Squadrons One and Two are all I’m bringing in to Project Blue Bolt.”

                “I hope that’s enough power concentrated into doing the job.” Blue Star muttered quietly.

                “It should, Major. I’ve got a lot staked on this summer going the way I have planned. You liaise with Squadrons Kilo and Romeo and make sure they know their jobs this season.” Kilo Squadron being the full-time NAS squad in Kingman, and Romeo is in Riviera. “Papa Flight I’ll control from here.” referring to the forward observation post maintained in the former Primm, Nevada.

                “Lots of teleporting for me. Good thing I’m used to it.”

                “When this plan is complete, we’ll be sitting pretty. Hell, if all works out the way I plan, I will suggest Sleet be given a full-time position and a Flight command. I may not like him, but we all know how good he is.” Silas growled. Both Majors nodded in agreement. Sleet IS one of the best, but his fundamental honesty (not to mention his heckling ways on air) would get in the way of the plans they all had. “If he ever finds out about Project Blue Bolt, he can raise a lot of flak.”
> Chapter Two: First Muster
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Early Monday morning, the whole of the Nevada Aeronautical Survey, Greater Las Vegas Metropolitan Weather Control Flight, Colorado Territories Air Control (CTAC) Station Victor, gathered in a hangar at the former Nellis Air Force Base, all two hundred fifty plus of them. They were arrayed in ranks of ten, recent reserve call ups and volunteers up front, more senior veterans farther back. They had heard the song and dance before. After the roll was called, Colonel Stormcloud mounted the dais, with a projection screen behind him and a pointer strapped to a foreleg.

                “Ponies of the Aeronautical Survey, it is time to get to work. Many of you have not been under training since last monsoon, and we will need to function as a team, both in small and in large, if we are going to get through this season. It has already started, and all of you know we have had two near-misses already. Two is three too many. No more!

                “As I call your name and squadron assignment, you are to go to the areas designated for your squadron. We will be organized in twenty-six groups of ten, with thirty of us being in senior command, coordinating different flights. All of you are cautioned to listen to your commanders, because your commanders have earned the right to be listened to. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years as a pony, and twenty years before that, so I do know what I am doing, no matter what you think.

                “Major Turbulent Air, command of Flight One.

                “Major Strong Wing, command of Flight Two.

                “Major Snowcap, command of Flight Three.

                “Major Parseval, command of Flight Four.

                “Major Roaring Storm, command of Flight Five.

                “Major Hal Sleet, command of Flight Six.

                “Captain Stern Gaze, executive officer, Flight One.”

                Hal jumped a good six inches off the floor when his name was called. “What the hell is he thinking about?” he thought to himself as he landed abruptly. “Giving me command of the Training Flight! I’m a storm breaker, not a teacher! I hate teaching!”

                As the colonel droned on down the list, Hal walked to the mustering area for Flight Six. There, he was met by the training flight supply adjutant, Master Sergeant Paper Chaser. The dark blue coated and dirty-yellow maned and tailed earth pony, with the cutie mark of a manila file folder, had a thick bundle of shirts and papers next to him. “Congratulations, Major Sleet. You deserved some recognition from the Colonel.” the burly pony said.

                “Chase, what the hell is going on here? I’m not suited to be an instructor, I’m a storm breaker! I don’t know anything about teaching my talents to any pony!” Hal hissed quietly, his wings unfurling some.

                The career admin sergeant didn’t bat an eye. It was rumored that the only thing that would shake the earth pony’s calm is someone messing with his paper work. Only a few ponies knew for sure that it was not a rumor. “Bring it up with the Colonel after muster. Here’s your command shirts, and a list of those under you. You do have good instructors as Captains and Lieutenants. All you really have to do is coordinate and command.”

                Hal slipped off his NAS undress shirt and put on his white command shirt, with a silver oak leaf on the front along with his name, and the NAS Weather Control logo on the back. “You bet your sweet bippy I’ll talk to the Colonel later. Who I got with me here?”

                “Swift Rain, Screaming Breeze, and Sam Perkins as captains, and as lieutenants, Sandy Jackson, Harper Tune, Filter Tip, Bill Marks, and the Twister Twins, Orion and Aquila.” Paper Chaser reported.

                Hal’s ranting thoughts immediately calmed down by three quarters. All the ponies mentioned he either knew or knew of, Sam and Screaming Breeze having been two of his own instructors when he started in the monsoon control team six years before, Harper Tune also working at Retro Radio Three, the big band and classical station, as well as being a member of the Dippy Hippies. She does play one mean lead guitar. The others he knew slightly, but what he knew of them included the fact that they were all excellent teachers. “Damn. Maybe the Colonel does know something. But why me as Commander of the training flight?”

                “Because Colonel Hard Ass hates your bloody guts, Hal. He hates you, but respects your talent.” Screaming Breeze said as she walked up. The black and tan pegasus exchanged hoofbumps with Hal followed by the other two captains. Paper Chaser issued the captains their shirts, order and training books, and roster sheets. The new Major conferred with his Captains and Lieutenants, when they arrived, on how to best start training their rookies.

                Once all the rookies had arrived, sorted themselves out by squadrons, and had met their officers, Hal decided to give them all a bit of a pep talk. “Ponies, if you don’t know me by now, I’m Hal Sleet, weekday afternoon deejay on Retro Radio Two. I’ve been named your Flight Commander by our esteemed Colonel Stormcloud, who could really do with a lightning bolt up his ass, if I can arrange it.”

                After the snorts, laughter, and hoof stomps died down, Hal went on. “Now, I’m not much of a teacher, but your other officers here are. Listen and learn from them and me, and we’ll get through this monsoon season safely with our hides and wings intact.

                “We will be trading duty shifts daily, first Squadrons twenty-one, twenty-three, and twenty-five, then Squadrons twenty-two, twenty-four and twenty-six. On duty, you are to remain at your assigned outposts, ever vigilant to the weather, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Off duty, we train in different formations and weather manipulations, ready to assist if called in case of need. However, off duty squadrons can head home, so long as you keep in contact with us by phone or radio. This cycle will stay up for the first four weeks, or until I’m assured you all have enough training not to lay waste to half the city.

                “I’m not as ferocious or military bound as Colonel Hard Ass, but one thing he and I agree on, and should be imparted to you, is that when we are working, discipline is necessary. We are the city’s defense against bad weather, and it’s up to us to keep our homes safe.

                “Over the next three months, we’ll get to know each other well. If you have any issues, take them to your officers. If that don’t work, find me. If THAT don’t work, I’ll call my wife. If you survive that, you won’t HAVE any more problems, y’hear?

                “Okay, ponies, let’s get to work. Lieutenants, I want squad reports to your Captains by lunch. Captains, we meet in my office at three. If you find my office before I do, just wait. I’ll get there, eventually. Ponies, I take my JOB here seriously, and so should you. I don’t take YOU or anypony else seriously at first. You gotta earn it. Shouldn’t be hard.”

                Hal stomped his hoof on the floor twice before rearing up and spreading his wings. “Nasser Ho!” he shouted.

                “Nasser Ho!” came a ragged response.

                “Okay, I’ll have to work on a better team shout. I’m open to ideas. To the classroom!”



                Once his Flight was in the classroom, his officers took charge with the first day training, while Hal hunted for his office. Once there, he started in on the paperwork. He loathed paperwork more extensive than the radio logs, and now he oversaw sixty-four ponies, almost a third of the NAS Weather Control team, the ones who knew the least about what to do. By lunchtime, he had managed to read everypony’s file once, checking their test scores. He also had three mugs of coffee, four aspirin tablets and half a dozen donuts, supplied by Paper Chaser, who was at his desk in the outer office.

                For lunch, he asked Chase to send out for some hayburgers and fries while he started on initial reports he knew the Colonel would want by four. By three, when the Captains came in, Hal had the reports made out, barring any additional reports from the officers. Just because Hal hated the rigmarole didn’t mean he couldn’t do the job. At four, he headed for Colonel Stormcloud’s office to make his report.

                Hal found he had to wait until the other flights made their reports before he could make his own. He knew roughly what to expect here, but he had not been a senior officer before, and was not sure how all the minutiae went. So, he handled matters his own way.

                “Well, Major Sleet, what do you think of your Flight?” The colonel growled out.

                “Colonel, I have some good ones, some bad ones, and some I can’t describe yet, because I have yet to really see them. Just going off the papers, we should not have much trouble, but to answer your question, ask me the same question on Friday and I’ll have a better answer for you. Right now, I can’t answer you in your terms, just in mine.” Hal reported, not intimidated by the colonel’s glare. “I may not like you, but I refuse to hand you a line of bullcrap.”

                “Okay, then, Major, what is your description?”

                “I can be wrong, but we have four complete dunces in the Flight. I wouldn’t trust them with weather control duty any more than I would trust you with a bent paperclip.” Hal said calmly, looking right at Colonel Stormcloud with a perfectly innocent look on his face before naming the four ponies in question.

                The colonel’s tan face purpled some, but he took a deep breath or two before speaking. “Sleet, I gave you the Flight not because I am a big fan of yours, but that you are honest, reliable, and dedicated. You run the Flight as you see fit, within Regulations, which I know you know, and leave me the hell alone until I call on you or you do need advice. Got it?”

                “Oh, I got it, Colonel. I have a wife and a foal on the way. I will not let them down, no matter what stands in my way.”

                The colonel’s expression softened a bit. “There, I know how you feel, Sleet. I have a new grandson, and I want him to have a good life here.

                “You are dismissed for the day, just stay by the phone in case anything comes up. Be back here by seven tomorrow.”

                “Muster’s at eight, right?” Hal asked.

                “Officers start early and finish late. Get used to it. I can, so can you. It’ll just give you more to bitch about when you get back on the radio.”

                “Point made, Colonel. Until tomorrow.” Hal waved at the Colonel, did an exaggerated about-face, and marched out of the office.

                When the door was shut, the colonel muttered “Damn comedian…” before picking up his phone, dialing up Turbulent Air. “Turb, just had Sleet in my office. He’s sharper than we thought. We may lose our ringers in Flight Six.”

                After some feedback from Turbulent Air, the Colonel continued. “Just be ready to lose our main intel sources on him. Start leaning some on the officers, but not too hard. We don’t want the wrong word getting back to him.

                “Right. I’m going home. You have the watch, Major. Good night.” Stormcloud hung up and prepared to head home himself.





                Hal flew home, stopping once at a store to pick up something for his wife. Just as his hooves touched the grass in the courtyard of the villa, a shrill voice rang out from the kitchen. “What took you so long? Did you bring me any pickles?”

                Hal walked into the kitchen. “Colonel Hard Ass had a surprise for me.” he said as he put the big jar of pickles on the counter top.

                His wife, the heavily pregnant Raven Blacklight, a black unicorn with lavender mane, tail and horn, let out a squeal of joy when she saw the jar. “You remembered!” she squealed happily as the jar opened under the influence of her purple magic and a pickle rose out of the jar, to be chomped by the unicorn.

                Hal rapidly got upwind of the open jar. An aversion, if not downright allergy, to pickle juice had carried over from before the Event. “If I forgot, you would make my night hellish. Hard Ass already did that to my day.” he said as Raven chomped the pickle down.

                Raven then looked at her husband and best friend from before the Event. “What’s with the oak leaf on your shirt, Chuck?” she asked, using his pre-Event name, which was Charles Anthony Corso Junior, or ‘Chuck’ for short. They only used pre-Event names when alone with each other or with the third person on the vacation trip, Wordsmythe (birth name Carl Jones), a dark red earth pony with a rust orange mane and a typewriter cutie mark.

                Hal explained about what happened at First Muster while he prepared dinner for himself. “He gave you the Training Flight? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” Raven snorted.

                “Like hell you will, Jan! Do that and we’ll have to move past Tucson to get away from him. Either there or Yellowstone, and I’m not one for living in snow!” Hal snapped, referring to her birth name, Janet Byrd. “Besides, the pay is better as a Major than as a Specialist in Squadron Five, right?”

                Raven immediately settled down, levitating another pickle from the jar. “You have a point there, Hal.” she sighed. “Maybe I’ll send him a nasty note.”

                “You write it and seal it, I’ll deliver it. So long as I do not know what you wrote, I won’t get dinged for it, right?” Hal said as he built not one, but two Dagwoods.

                “I’m sure he’ll try, but he is too much a soldier to let it affect him. He gave you a Flight command for a reason. To him, a good one. Let him have his fun. If he gets mad, let him get mad at me, not you.” Raven told him, giving Hal a nuzzle, dosing him with pickle fumes.

                “If he gets mad at you, you’ll fix his little brown wagon, and he knows it.” Hal managed to gasp out. “Especially after year before last.”

                “He hasn’t forgotten the hotfoot I gave him after the awards ceremony two years ago, when you got passed over for the Weather Control Pony of the Season award in favor of his crony, Turbulent Air, has he?”

                “Forgotten, no, but he still has a grudge against you and me. Not that he would ever do anything against a leading mage. He’d piss off almost all the unicorns in town if he did anything to you, and it could be traced back to him.” Hal told his wife, nuzzling her neck to stay away from the pickle fumes.

                “So, I’m able to innovate most of the tricks we used to talk about in our game sessions, Chuck. The Ten-Thousand League Step, the sensory enhancements, the Voice…” Raven said wistfully, remembering the days when she and Chuck would just sit on the patio, going on and on in their old RPG, which he ran with her for eighteen years, and continued on even here.

                “But not the flight or the vampirism, and thank goodness not the Family…” Hal said with an eye roll.

                “Yes, Ma Bell would be a little much for here.” Raven said, stepping aside to pull out another pickle, fortunately downwind, so Hal could eat.

                After Hal got the first sandwich done, he asked, “How did Fred work out today?”

                “Lester Bestertester is giving him all sorts of hell as his new producer. Malone is having a rough time with him.” Raven reported.

                Hal nodded as he took a bite from his second sandwich. After swallowing, he managed to say, “All according to plan. Lester will make Malone look like a fool the first week, then starting next week, Malone will ‘get a handle’ on Lester. They’ll go back and forth like that until I get back, or until I make a guest shot or a phone call, when I’ll read them both the riot act for being so stupid.”

                “Wait until they pull something extremely boneheaded, then have Stanley bust in and threaten to call you. When they do it again, you drop in a while later.” Raven suggested.

                “I’ll bounce it off Fred and Stan when I get the chance. I like it!” Hal said with a smile.

                “Let’s settle down and listen to the news, okay?”

                “You get comfy, I’ll join you when I’m done. Wordy leave any beer?” Hal asked.

                “Should be some in the cooler, Hal.” Raven said as she made her ponderous way to the living room.

                Hal dug out the beer and returned to the living room, snuggling next to Raven, sipping from the jar. Raven had the big cathedral radio tuned to the news station in time to catch Norbert Smallword’s six pm newscast. Of course, the top story was the Nevada Aeronautical Survey’s annual Monsoon Call-up. They listened to the story together, Hal nodding at the points made until they heard Norbert say, “This season, Retro Radio Two’s Hal Sleet has been named the commander of Flight Six, the training flight. Why Colonel Stormcloud would do such a thing is honestly beyond my understanding. Major Sleet is well known for his stormbusting capabilities, not as an instructor.”

                Raven giggled at Hal’s reaction to the report, as Norbert moved on to another story. “Looks like you got allies in strange places, Hal.”

                “I didn’t know the old unicorn had it in him.” Hal replied. “Guess I owe Norbert an interview, if Colonel Hard Ass doesn’t slap the sense out of him first.”

                “The colonel won’t. If he does anything to old Norbert, half the town will be after his ass big time. The other half will be lying in wait.”

                “Not to mention the Mayor, the Secretariat, and the regional Mayors will want him as well.” Hal said, nuzzling Raven. “Just where is Wordy tonight?”

                “He said he was going on a date with the Secretary of Energy’s chief aide. Sure pays off, working at City Hall in the archives.” Raven told him.

                “If he comes home and busts the courtyard wall again, HE’s fixing it this time.” Hal snorted.
> Chapter Three: Chess, anyone?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of that first week, Hal supervised the trainees in their training during the day, and regularly dosed himself with antacid at night, Raven and Wordy both needing to massage the tension out of his muscles so he could sleep without resorting to the bottle of whiskey. He did can the four bad ones on Friday afternoon, taking the time to make sure he wrote up his justifications to the Colonel. Whatever he wrote, it did fly. The Colonel did not bitch him out for doing so.

                Hal did come up with a team-building measure. He worked on it from Tuesday through Thursday, calling in a few markers to get tee-shirts printed up in time for Friday afternoon muster. Announcing to his Flight that they were now the Air Chess Flight, he passed out the shirts.

                The Captains were named the white, gray and scarlet bishops, The Lieutenants king’s or queen’s rooks, the Sergeants (squadron second-in-command) kings or queen’s knights, and the rest of the troops either king’s or queen’s pawns, depending on squadron, odd numbered squadrons designated for kings, even numbered squadrons queens. Hal himself was named Rainbow King.

                He then gave the entire Flight a pep talk, explaining how they were all on the same team, and the best way to improve is to learn how to work together to win the game. He also gave them their new Flight rallying cry, which all the flight members joined in enthusiastically.

“How do chess players declare victory?” Hal shouted.

“CHECKMATE!” was the return shout before they broke up for the night, except the duty squadrons. Weekends, only the duty squadrons had to report on their assigned days, the off-duty members released from training, but told to stay alert for call up. “Mother Nature cares not for weekends!” Hal reminded them all before dismissal.

                Saturday, Hal was Command Duty Officer, a chore rotated among all six Majors. All that day, it felt like rain. Mid-afternoon, he took a report from Kilo Squadron over in Kingman that they were getting storm activity, heading a little west of north. Hal dispatched a squadron from Flight Four, and one of his training squadrons, to investigate the activity, bringing the rest of the duty squadrons to ready-five alert status, all per Regulations. Within the hour, he got his first reports.

                “Four-Bravo to base.” came the call over the radio.

                “Four-Bravo, this is Six-Alpha. Go ahead.” Hal replied.

                “Six-Alpha, the storms appear to be on a track to pass east of the city, over Lake Mead, maximum intensity Force Five. Confirm a signal ten.”

                “Okay, Four-Bravo. This will be a good time to get some practice in for the rookies. Coordinate with Two Six Lima and show the rooks what to do.”

                “Four-Bravo, roger that.”

                “Two-Six-Lima copy.” The Lieutenant for Squadron Two-Six, Orion Twister, reported.

                “One-Four-Lima, copy that.” said Squadron One-Four’s lieutenant.

                “Six-Alpha ten-ten.” Hal said, tuning in the radios for the affected squadrons. After that chore was accomplished, he had one more to do. Picking up the phone, he called the Colonel.

                When the other end picked up, Hal was very quick to say, “Whiskey-One, this is Six-Alpha. Storm report. Storms expected to pass over Lake Mead, force Five on the scale. Four-Bravo is in charge, with squadrons One-Four and Two-Six on scene. Will report if anything untoward happens.”

                There was a pause of about five seconds before the Colonel responded. “Six-Alpha, that was very well done. Goes to show even you can surprise me at times. I’ll be monitoring Four-Bravo’s frequency, but you’re the pony in charge, Sleet.”

                “All I can do is all I will do, and all I will do is the best I can do, Colonel.” Hal said, more than a little surprised by the Colonel’s praise.

                “Keep on doing that, Sleet. Whiskey-One out.” Stormcloud said before hanging up.



                Stormcloud quickly dialed up Turbulent Air, letting his aide know about his exchange with Sleet.

                “Why in hell are you praising him like that over a routine alert, Colonel?” the Major asked.

                “Because if I keep telling him he’s doing things properly, by the book, which he IS doing, then he will be less inclined to get under our feathers when time comes to strike, right?” the Colonel growled. “If he’s tending to his own business, he won’t notice ours.”

                “Put it that way, I see your point. Seems like he’s working out.”

                “If he keeps out of our way, I’ll praise him to the skies. I better get back to business.” the colonel said before hanging up.



                The storms were tracked by the two squadrons until they were past Hoover Dam before Four-Bravo called in a signal eleven, meaning the threat had ended, the two squadrons getting some badly-needed practice in before returning to base. When Four-Bravo called in the signal eleven, Hal had the rest of the duty squadrons stand down. Fortunately, there were no other weather calls that night. Even though the monsoon had got off to an early start, it also was rather fitful. Hal knew the worst was yet to come. It was only mid-June. July and August were the worst.

                One thing that Hal did NOT expect come Monday morning was for his chess-naming plan for his Flight to really catch on. After morning muster, in the officer’s conference, Major Sleet was bombarded by questions by the other Majors, and the Colonel, just how he set everything up. By lunchtime, each Flight had set up their own ‘chessboards’ and colors. Colonel Stormcloud was not given a specific piece to represent. His shirt was going to have a chessboard in black and brown on the front, and chose the call sign ‘Chessmaster One’.

Here’s how it broke down:

                Flight One: The Black King, commanding Black and Silver teams.

                Flight Two: The Red Queen, commanding Red and Pink teams.

                Flight Three: The Blue Queen, commanding Blue and Teal teams.

                Flight Four: The Gold King, commanding Gold and Bronze teams.

                Flight Five: The Green King, commanding Lime and Forest teams.

                Flight Six: The Rainbow King, commanding White, Gray and Scarlet teams.

                Support Division: The Brown King, commanding Tan, Ocher, Coffee and Chocolate teams.

The Colonel, as Chessmaster One, announced the new informal naming schemes at evening muster, giving the plan his full endorsement, with shirts arriving for everyone by Thursday. He also announced the formation of a game chart between members of the different flights, a pony from one team playing a pony from another color a game of chess. The team with the most wins on Friday will win something from the NAS, to be determined later.

Chessmaster One did stress that the chess games were not mandatory, knowing that not everyone could play the game well. He did suggest that those who could not play well cheer on those who can, because it was the winning color group (two squadrons) who would get the weekly prizes, NOT the winning Flight. Kings and Queens were forbidden to play, because they led more than one color. Hal welcomed that, he just dreamed up the scheme because everyone, including him, knew the terminology, NOT because he was an expert player. How he got checkmated in four moves playing a game with a friend years ago, he could never figure out, nor was he about to tell anyone about it, either.

Team morale went up faster than Major Sleet’s popularity, everyone getting into the chess call signs with vigor. Chessmaster One did declare that in official business and communications, everyone was to use the official call signs, but when not actually wrangling weather, he officially would turn a blind ear to the practice.



Hal came home one evening to find his housemate, Wordsmythe, waiting for him with a hot dinner, having taken on more of the cooking chores as Raven’s pregnancy progressed. That was good for the group, because Hal could make sandwiches on a good day, and burn water on a bad day. “I got something you should listen to, Chuck.”

Hal’s ears twitched at that. Wordy seldom used the old names, even in private. “What’s going on, Carl?” he asked.

“You know I have been dating the Energy Secretary’s chief aide for a while now.” Carl said as he served up a big portion of a noodle, cheese and pinto bean casserole.

“Since last December, if I remember right.” Hal said after a bite.

“You know Summer Sun has an eidetic memory.”

“I haven’t forgotten that, Carl.”

The red and orange earth pony grimaced some at Hal’s pun slinging. Even after a friendship that has lasted almost two decades, he could still wince at them. “Summer Sun overheard Cornflower on the phone this afternoon. She mentioned something about a Project Blue Bolt, whatever that is, and that once the Project was completed, whoever was on the phone will see stars.”

“You felt that I should hear this?” Hal asked.

“Yes, seeing that she was talking to your boss and best buddy, Colonel Hard Ass.”

Hal’s ears went straight up. “Is that a fact? Why would Hard Ass be talking with the Energy Secretary? The NAS doesn’t interface much with the Energy Department, unless a wind farm needs maintenance.”

“Damned if she or I know, Chuck.” Carl said, sitting down at the table with a good plateful of casserole. “Cornflower has only been back for a month or so, after having a kid.”

That caught Hal’s attention some, but he was hungry and quite tired, having led flight drills and some weather training that day, training he needed as much as his Flight did. Learning how to handle the command multi-channel portable radios was indeed a bit of a challenge, learning how to listen to multiple channels and controlling which one to talk on is a bit more of a challenge. “Okay, Carl, keep me informed if you hear anything more about this Project Blue Bolt, okay?” Hal told his friend. “Where’s Birdie? Sleeping?”

“No, out having some girl time with Green Mane. Green dropped by an hour ago, and offered to take Raven to The Glass Eye for some mocktails and talk.”

Hal grimaced some. Going out to bars, when he was not performing, was not high on his list of Favorite Things to Do, because if there was one thing that really pissed him off, that one thing was inebriation in others in his presence. He still considered himself a recovering alcoholic after three decades of sobriety, three millennia plus in the time stream, and changing into a pony. Yes, he did enjoy beer and occasional hard stuff, for relaxation, but he NEVER let himself go beyond a slight buzz. “At least she’s in good hooves with Green Mane.” he muttered quietly. Green Mane is a tan unicorn, a full MD, and is head of the trauma department at Vegas Central Hospital. The two ladies met shortly after Raven and friends Returned, when Raven was a student at the Brotherhood of Unicorns Magic Academy (BUMA, widely called ‘bummer’) and Green Mane an instructor, and have remained fast friends since.

“Relax, Hal. Raven’s doing fine, and she deserves some time out. You have a big job to do. You know that, I know that, and she knows that. Besides, you need some sleep. Finish eating, take a nap, then it hot tub and massage time for you. Got it?” Wordsmythe suggested.

Hal was caught at a vulnerable time. Usually he would protest, but not today. “Got it, Carl.”  


The next day, at lunchtime, three ponies met in the Energy Secretary’s office. Cornflower, a burly bluish earth pony with a pink mane and yellow tail, was behind her desk. With her were her allies in Project Blue Bolt, the Media Director Test Pattern, a vivid neon greenish-yellow in color with black mane and tail and a brilliant orange horn, and the Urban Development Coordinator Precise Measurements, a dirty white unicorn with a perpetual scowl on his face. All had their reasons to take part in the Project.

 “Okay, I spoke with Colonel Stormcloud yesterday. He says all the pieces are in place, we just need to await the proper storm. We all need to have our alternate comm links in place before then, so when the radios go out, we can strike fast.

“We’ll need to get to the Mayor and encourage him to get Blue Blizzard to step down because he cannot handle the crisis, but our candidate can,” she told her co-conspirators, Blue Blizzard being the commanding officer of the Nevada Aeronautical Survey, in charge of the airspace and weather control for the Las Vegas area.

“We can count on Stormcloud to do his job. I know he’s competent. He helped teach me discipline while in school, back when he first Returned.” Test Pattern said.

“What about the rest of your department? Will they be able to stand to at an hour’s notice?” Cornflower shot back.

“I’ll be ready, and so will they. The instant lightning strikes the Tower, I’ll take it off line and have backups in place. Will you cut power to the Tower?” Test Pattern retorted.

“Within seconds. I can keep it off for as long as necessary, claiming a surge knocked out feeder lines.” Cornflower said before looking at the other two conspirators.

“Once I get the word, I can have some of my ponies out blocking key points within an hour.” Precise Measurements said calmly. “We just need to sow confusion long enough to make Blue Blizzard look completely incompetent. Bastard’s past ninety already, and holds power real tight. He’ll look so bad as a weather commander, not only the Mayor and the entire city council, but the authorities in Salt Lick will demand his removal,” referring to the Colorado Territories capitol, on the former location of Salt Lake City. Las Vegas is part of the Colorado Territories, which covers most of the former states of Utah and Nevada, Colorado, New Mexico and Wyoming west of the Continental Divide, and the northern part of Arizona, in the mountains, leaving the desert floor there to the Sonoran Territories to the south.

“I’ll have the Review-Journal start turning out articles about Blue Blizzard’s advancing age, making him look as foolish as I can, as well as a newsreel story or two, and suggesting to the talk hosts on Radio News and Radio Talk to look into Blue Blizzard as well,” Test Pattern said, leaning over the desk.

 “So, it’s agreed then. Project Blue Bolt is a go.” Cornflower declared. “Our candidate for the General’s position in the NAS is so much better for the job.”


Outside the office, at her own desk, Summer Sun heard the declaration, if little else. She made a mental note to make sure she told Wordsmythe about it on their next date. She made it a point to refer anything she heard about this Project Blue Bolt to Wordsmythe, whom she knew she could trust. After all, a girl has to talk to SOMEPONY with good gossip, right?
> Chapter Four: Gathering A Storm
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five weeks later, Hal was stuck with being Command Duty Officer on a Monday after a rough weekend. The monsoon was in full swing, with storms coming in from first the southeast, then from the southwest. When he relieved Major Roaring Storm that morning, Hal not only got a complete turnover, he also got something he had managed to avoid so far. A casualty list.

                “How did One-Five Sierra and One-Five-Seven get injured?” Hal asked.

                “One-Five Squadron was working with Zero-One Squadron in handling a storm cell yesterday afternoon. Zero-One, along with Zero-One Bravo, were trying something the Colonel suggested. The storm had a massive lightning discharge and collapsed in a massive downburst. My ponies could not get out of the way fast enough. They’re going to be out of it for several weeks. Dislocated wings, broken legs, one concussion. They’ll be all right, but I had to call in Blue Star and the ambulance squad to get them home.” Roaring Storm explained.

                “I knew it has been busy this weekend, but I didn’t know it was that bad. At least the reserves weren’t called in.” Hal said.

                “How’s Raven doing?”

                “Bitching up a storm in some languages I don’t know. All she will tell me is that the languages used were Lakota Sioux and Navajo. She’s due by Wednesday.” Hal said.

                “Yeah, Happy Day was like that before she had Lightfoot.” Roaring Storm said, mentioning his wife and daughter. “She’ll survive, whether she believes it or not.

                “Okay, then. I’m heading home to crash most of the day. If anything happens, don’t call me, I’ll be sleeping.”

                Hal looked at his fellow Major. “Crash hard, but stay by the phone. I just got this feeling that today is going to be real difficult.” he advised.

                “Right. I had it, you got it, see you later. MUCH later, I hope.”



                After Roaring Storm left, Hal studied the Order Book before ponies arrived for Muster at eight. Flight Four, Squadron One-Three has the duty at Station Papa this day, so Hal had to meet with the Gold Bishop to give her the orders for the day. The weather was unsettled, like it has been the last few days, so he decided to send out two additional squadrons for monitoring purposes, one southeast, one southwest.

                After muster and giving out orders for the day, Hal went back to Command/Ops to look over the situation map table, a large piece of plastic with an old map of the Las Vegas area under it, spanning a hundred miles in all directions. Elena Strong Wing, the Red Queen, joined him there, with a clipboard, as did Parseval, the Gold King. As Duty Officer, Hal was in command. During the peak of the monsoon, Flights One, Three and Five traded on-duty time with Flights Two, Four and Six daily, with daily command rotating between the six Majors.

                “Latest readings called in from Papa Flight. The others are flying back now, they should be here soon.” She said before picking up a grease pencil and started marking the map.

                “Those numbers do not look good.” Hal said as he looked over the numbers. “I’m going to have Papa do some sweep flights down towards the south. The weather’s coming in from that direction.”

                “Probably a hurricane coming up from Baja.” Elena mumbled around the grease pencil.

                “Bit early in the season for a hurricane.” Hal replied. “Not unknown, but very unusual.”

                Elena finished with the marks. “True, but all the signals point that way. I’m going to see if I can get a patch with Santijuana for a weather update.” Santijuana being built on the old site of San Diego.

                “Good luck. If what’s coming is as bad as it looks, we won’t be able to punch an AM signal down that way until the storm passes.”

                “If that don’t work, I’ll have a telegram sent.”

                “Get on it, Elena. I got some orders to cut for today. Of all days for Hard Ass to take a day off…” Hal sighed.

                “You got to let him know about this, Hal.”

                “I’ll wait until I get the Santijuana data. Get on that, please. Oh… send messages to Havasu, Yuma and Riviera as well. Might as well get as good a picture as we can.”

                “On it.” Elena said before heading out to the Nellis communications station.



                After getting the requested data and transferring the numbers to the map, Hal looked over the numbers some more before calling in two captains and four squadron leaders. He showed them all the map before cutting orders. “Bronze Team, I want you to cover the valley between here and Primm. Constant coverage, rotating units. If something’s coming, I want to have as much notice as possible. Gray team, you cover this side of the mountains, down about thirty miles from Boulder City. I’m going to call Station Romeo in Riviera and see if they can get us some warning.”

                “What about Primm Flight?” Bronze Bishop asked.

                “I’ve already cut orders for them to patrol to the south. I think you know as well as I do that it is going to get ugly today. We had best get ready for it.” Hal told the bishop.

                “If not today, then tomorrow at latest.” the Gray Bishop, Screaming Breeze, said.

                “Right. I want you and Gray Team checking out the eastern approach, while Bronze team handles the west. I think west is more probable, and the way things are feeling, I don’t want to subject the rookies to what I think is coming on their own.” Hal told his subordinate, mentor, and friend. “I want you to patrol to about halfway between here and Riviera. I’m going to call them and see what they have been reading. We really need to put in a better emergency responder comm system in.”

                “Been talked about for decades, Hal. Blue Blizzard doesn’t see the need.”

                Hal snorted. “That old fart couldn’t squeeze water out of a wet sponge, much less a storm cloud. Let’s get a move on, ponies. Weather don’t wait for any pony.”

                After the officers left to get their teams ready, Hal, as Duty Officer, went to a seldom used, but vitally necessary, console. This console is one of the few Emergency Alert transmitting stations. Sitting himself down, he looked everything over closely before deciding which level of alert to send.

                Hal pushed a button, and heard the EA tones go out. At the proper time, Hal opened the mic. “This is a Weather Advisory from the Nevada Aeronautical Survey Weather Control Team. A Severe Weather Advisory is now in effect for all areas south of Las Vegas. Unsettled weather is being reported, with a significant chance of storms forming, possibly as early as noon and continuing through the night.

                “Stay alert for further updates, and keep your eyes to the skies. This is Major Hal Sleet, Duty Officer reporting. We now return you to your normal broadcasts.” He concluded before closing the mic. The message he just sent, thanks to his use of the EA system, had been transmitted over all radio stations in the Las Vegas Metro area, being heard by most ponies in the city. Hal then braced for the phone to ring, which it did within a minute.

                Hal fielded calls from several offices and officials, all requesting confirmation of the report. He confirmed everything, emphasizing that this was the lowest-level alert, but more could be coming, and Weather Control was monitoring closely.

                One call he handled was from Colonel Stormcloud, who complimented Hal on his handling of matters so far. “Just one thing, Sleet. I may be calling on Team One today to try my new storm mitigation plans. If conditions are right, I want to see how it will handle a macroburst cell.”

                “Sounds good to me, Colonel. I’m in charge here, but you are in overall charge. If you think I’m doing something wrong, don’t hesitate to tell me. This IS my first serious weather threat while I’ve been in charge.” Hal told his boss.

                “You’ve got two experienced Majors with you today, including my Exec. You can call on them if you think you need to, or they will smack you hard if you do something stupid.”

                “Roger that, Colonel. I have the conn. Let me get back to it.”



                After hanging up, Colonel Stormcloud picked the phone back up and dialed a number. It picked up on the third ring. “Cornflower.”

                “Cornflower, this is Colonel Stormcloud. Today looks like it. Be ready.” he said in terser tones than usual, even for him.

                “Understood. I’ll be listening and waiting for your call.” she said before hanging up quickly, as did Stormcloud.
> Chapter Five: Opening Moves
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                By noon, the skies over Vegas had gone from broken clouds to a leaden gray overcast, oppressively muggy and uncomfortably hot. Sweep patrols did report storm formation to the south of the city, and telegrams from Yuma, Havasu and Riviera all reported storms, low intensity at first, but building.

                “It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Hal commented to Parseval.

                “Got that right. A lot different from up here than it looks from the squaddie’s point of view, eh?”

                “A-men to that. I just hope I don’t botch it when the time comes.”

                “You make the calls, we’ll do the job. You have me and Elena to tell you if you are being a horse’s ass, right? Trust me, we’ll do that.” Parseval said in a friendly tone.

                “I’m counting on it, Parseval. I don’t intend to fail, but it is always an option. An unwelcome one, true.” Hal said quietly, pacing some, looking at the chart table as Elena came back from the radio room with a fresh set of weather readings.

                “Bad news, ponies. Station Romeo is reporting a Force Eight storm bearing down on Riviera. We better get ready for some real rough weather soon.” Elena said as she put the message forms down. “Major Blowing Dust called here himself to report.”

                Hal sighed. “Let me guess- heading out of the south, aimed almost directly at the town?”

                Elena nodded as she picked up a grease pencil and started marking the new readings. “I better alert Gray Team.” Hal said, selecting the right frequency on his radio.

                “I’ll let Gold Team know, too.” Parseval said, adjusting his own radio.

                Hal keyed his mic. “Six-Alpha to Six-Charlie.”

                “Six-Charlie aye. Go ahead, Six-Alpha.” Screaming Breeze said.

                “Six-Charlie, what your twenty?”

                “We’re about ten miles west of Nelson, on the old maps. We can see some activity far south, and it feels miserable where we’re at.”

                “Be advised, Riviera is reporting Force Eight storms bearing down on them from the south. Leave a detachment down that way to monitor progress, the rest of the team head north to get ready to defend the city.” Hal said, looking at the command map as he spoke.

                “Wilco, Six-Alpha. I’ll leave Two-Three Lima in charge of that.”

                “I’ll just tell you WHAT I want, Six-Charlie. The HOW is your problem.” Hal said, a trace of a smile on his face and in his voice.

                “Copy that, Six-Alpha. Let me get at it. Six-Charlie out.” Screaming Breeze said with a laugh before going off channel.

                “Damn, she’s good.” Hal said as he closed his mic. “But, then again, I knew that.”



                Four in the afternoon, and matters started to jump. Storm buildup reports started coming in from the southern deployed units, all heading in the direction of Vegas. Looking at the plot, Hal took the next step. He went back to the EA console and triggered the tones for the second level of alert.

                “This is a Severe Weather Watch from the Nevada Aeronautical Survey Weather Control team. Severe thunderstorms have been spotted more than fifty miles southeast and southwest of Las Vegas, moving north at about fifteen miles per hour.

                “All pegasi are advised to keep an eye on the skies, especially south of town. All citizens are to make ready for heavy rains starting in the late afternoon and lasting well into the evening hours. We will do our best, but Nature seems upset today, so stay ready.

                “This is Major Sleet of the NAS reporting. We now return you to your regularly scheduled madness.”

                “You know Hard Ass ain’t gonna like that, Hal.” Elena said.

                “Too damn bad. I’m in charge, I’ll do things my way. If he doesn’t like it, he can relieve me. Right now, we have a city to defend.” Hal declared as phones started to ring. “Not to mention phones to answer.”

                By the time the city officials were reassured, the situation had not improved any. New storm cells had started popping up to the south, all heading to the north-northeast. The cells would build, rage, then collapse, the gust fronts formed starting more storm cells. At five in the afternoon, the lines of storms reached Primm Station. Hal ordered Papa Squadron to fall back towards Vegas, monitoring the storm cells, along with Gray Squadron, who were also monitoring storms, but that storm track was predicted to go more east of the city.

                As Hal went to call up all squadrons to plus-five readiness, the phone rang. Elena answered, then called Hal as he was about to open his mic. “It’s for you, Duty Officer. The Colonel.”

                Hal immediately went to the phone and took it from Elena. “Yes, sir?”

                “Sleet, have you called up the day’s squadrons yet? I don’t like the feel of the weather.”

                “I was just about to when you interrupted me, Colonel.”

                “Good. I’m calling up Flight One, Team One. Have One-Three Squadron fall back when I arrive. Now is the time to test my plan. Blue Star there?” 

                “Not now, sir. He is checking on the rescue gear.” Hal reported.

                “Go tell him Project Blue Bolt is a go. He’ll know what to do.”

                Hal tried not to twitch at the words. He remembered all Wordy had told him concerning Blue Bolt. Forcing himself not to react, he said “Will do, Colonel. Project Blue Bolt is a go, inform Blue Star.”

                “Correct. I’m calling up the team as soon as I hang up with you. You got the conn, Sleet. Don’t let me down.”

                “I’ll never do that, Colonel. I know what to do, and I’ll do it. Now, I have troops to call up.” Hal said before hanging up.

                “Parseval, inform One-Three Squadron that Hard Ass himself is coming down with Team One. When they show up, they are to return to base.” Hal informed Four-Alpha, a question in his voice.

                “I wonder why he’s doing that. Flight One had duty yesterday, and is supposed to be off. Everyone had a hard day.” Parseval mused as he changed channels on his radio.

                “Don’t I know it. He wants it for him and his cronies, so let him.” Hal said drily, all the officers knowing that Flight One, Team One is full of Stormcloud’s buddies.

                “His ass, not mine.” Parseval said before calling One-Three Squadron.

                Hal turned to the loudspeaker mic and turned it on. “Attention all hands, this is the Duty Officer. All on-duty squadrons are to be placed in plus-five readiness mode. Heavy weather coming in from the south. I’ll collect my share of the bets later.”

                ‘I didn’t know you made bets with the troops, Hal.” Elena said once Hal finished.

                “Who says I did? It’s just to keep everyone on the edge of their hooves. I have to find Blue Star. Hard Ass wants me to tell him something.”

                “Go ahead. I’ll take over until you get back.” Elena said.



                Hal made his way to where Blue Star was working, checking out medical kits to be used in case of a weather pony injury. “What you need, Major?” Blue Star asked. Blue Star is the support leader for the NAS, able to teleport to a casualty scene, plant a beacon, then teleport back to pick up the ambulance team. He can lock on his beacons to teleport groups, but to do the initial teleports, he could only bring himself.

                “Personal message from the Colonel. He says he’s activating Project Blue Bolt. You know what to do, right?” Hal said casually.

                Blue Star’s reaction was anything but casual. His eyes went wide in sudden alarm, and a blue spark flew from his horn. “Y-yeah… I got phone calls to make.” the unicorn managed to say.

                Hal thought quickly before saying “Like to the Secretary of Energy?” he asked innocently.

                Blue Star looked like he was about to faint. “How did you know?” he squeaked.

                “How did I know? The Colonel just told me about it. He called me and filled me in so I would not have the Gold King’s squadron interfere with them. In fact, why don’t you go over the plan with me, to make sure I didn’t miss anything vital, okay?” Hal said, throwing a wing over Blue Star’s back companionably.

                Blue Star shivered a bit at the touch, but relaxed into it. “Okay. I’m to call Cornflower when the project is to commence. Stormcloud and Turbulent Air are to rile up a storm to over Force Nine before having lightning hit the Strat Tower. When the radios go off line, Cornflower will have the power to the Tower shut off while she and her associates work hard to make Blue Blizzard look too incompetent to stay in power over the NAS.” he explained.

                “What about Precise Measurements and Test Pattern?” Hal asked.

                “I don’t know for sure, not being briefed in on that part fully, but I know that Stormcloud is to be moved up to NAS chief.”

                “Ambitious. What are you getting out of it?”

                “A seat on the Regents of the Brotherhood.” he said, meaning the Brotherhood of Unicorn Mages Academy. “He wants you to take a full-time Flight Command. You’ve impressed him this year. He put you in Six so you would stay out of the way.”

                “Is that a fact…” Hal said, moving back a little from Blue Star. He remembered Raven saying that Blue Star has been pining for a job at BUMA (universally pronounced ‘bummer’, where both Returnee and native unicorns go for basic and advanced magical training. Pegasi returnees go to the Pegasus Flight Training Academy (PFTA, said as ‘poofta’) while earth ponies go to the Center for Rehabilitation and Education of Earth Ponies (CREEP)), but as a mage, he was somewhere between barely competent and a hack. His teleport skills landed him the job at Weather Control, but everyone knew the real reason why he was kept on was that he was Stormcloud’s stooge.

                “Oh, yes, Hal. He really does think a lot of you. He just does not like your honesty. He regarded you as a prime threat to his plans. Glad to see he was wrong.” Blue Star said eagerly.

                Hal turned to face Blue Star, getting nose to nose with the unicorn. In a blur of motion, Hal extended his wings and struck at Blue Star’s horn with his wing roots. The shock of one impact could stun a unicorn, while two will kayo the pony for at least a few minutes. The yellow unicorn dropped to the floor with all the grace of a sack of rice.

                “Got news for you, Star. He wasn’t.” Hal said as Blue Star fell.

                Just then, Paper Chaser looked in the room. “I heard something fall…” he said as he saw Blue Star out cold.

                “Chase, I need to keep him out cold until I can get some shackles on him. He’s part of a coup attempt here, with Stormcloud. If Hard Ass’ plans go forward, the Strat will be down as a transmitter for months, if not permanently. The lightning suppression is only rated for a Force Six storm.” Hal said quickly.

                “Dust Devils have some. I’ll keep him out until someone gets here. Go, I don’t want to lose my tunes.” the solid earth pony said in his usual calm tones as he kicked Blue Star gently at the base of the horn. “Always wanted to do that to him.”

                “Chase, remind me never to play poker with you.” Hal said as he headed to a phone.

                “Never play poker with me.” Chase said.

                “I’ll try to remember.” Hal said as he picked up the phone and dialed Dust Devils. “Ace? Hal Sleet at Weather Control. Look, I need a set of unicorn shackles here, storeroom two. Long story, no time. See Chase and bind Blue Star. No, I’m not joking, you long-horned menace to society! No time, Ace. Must go. Prepare for an ST Warning in about half an hour. Shit’s coming down, and from a long way up. Okay, yes, I owe you a few after the season. Out.”

                “I heard. Get moving, Major. Coffee Squadron throws in with the Rainbow King.” Chaser said as Hal went to say something.

                “Okay, Chase. You know what to do.” Hal said as he dashed out.
> Chapter Six: Check and Mate (in four moves and a bold stroke.)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Back up in Command, Hal called Parseval and Elena to him, quickly filling them in on Project Blue Bolt. “What can we do about it, Hal?” Parseval asked.

                “We’re going to nip it in the bud, Parseval. And this is how we’re going to do it.” Hal explained some of the ideas that had come to mind when he found out the full scope of Blue Bolt. The other two Majors listened closely, then broke to get back to their duties. Plot or no plot, there was a big storm coming, and it was up to them to stop it from damaging the city. One thing they agreed on is that they were switching to the alternate call signs.

                Hal called his housemate Wordsmythe at work, warning him about the plot, asking him to go tell the Mayor. If he didn’t call back within twenty minutes, he was going to spread the word another way. “I still might. I’ll give you twenty minutes to let him know.”

                “Right, Hal. Twenty minutes from now, mark. I’m off.” Wordsmythe said before hanging up.

                “Okay, gang, let’s jam a nice big thunderbolt up Hard Ass’ tail, shall we?” Hal said to the Majors. “Parseval, get Bronze Team set. When the Black Team relieves Gold Team, have them get back to the city ASAP and deploy along the old 515 route to knock down anything that comes that way. I’m giving you command of Scarlet and Gray teams, I’m going to be busy.

                “Elena, you take my White Team and merge it with your Red and Pink Teams. We have to wait until we see what Chessmaster is up to. You’re going to handle the offense while Parseval has defense.”

                “What do you plan on doing, Hal?” Elena asked.

                “Do what I do best, Elena. Bust me a storm! Anything Hard Ass and his cronies can build, I can knock down!”

                “Whiskey One to Six-Alpha.” Hal heard in his ear.

                Raising a hoof to silence the others, Hal keyed his own mic and activated a recorder. “Six-Alpha. Go ahead, Whiskey.”

                “I’m on scene with Team One. I have relieved One-Three squadron and sent them ahead. We’re north of the Jean settlement, storm cell Force Five and increasing, bearing zero-three-zero at thirty. Did you inform Blue Star?” Stormcloud asked.

                “Affirmative, Whiskey One. I told him. Are you proceeding with Blue Bolt?”

                “Yes, I am. This cell is ideal for testing. By the time we pass Sloan, this cell should be at Force Nine or higher, ready for collapse in south Old Town.”

                “Very well, Colonel. I’m going to send out a Severe Storm Warning for south and west of town. I’m deploying Flight Four and two of my teams to city defense, Flight Two and my remaining team to back you up if needed. Force Nines are nothing to sneeze at. Should I put off duty squadrons on alert?”

                “Good idea, but no, Sleet. They need their rest. If Blue Bolt does not work, we can still divert the worst of the weather away from town. Do your duty, Major, I’ll do mine. Whiskey-One out.”

                “Six-Alpha out.” Hal said before switching his mic to a different frequency.

                Looking at the map, Hal swiftly plotted the course. “Okay, team, we have about an hour before things really get serious. Time for me to make a radio broadcast, MY way.”

                “Hal, how can you justify this action?” Elena asked.

                “This falls under poofta rule number six.” Hal said, referring to a famous catch-all rule from the Pegasus Flight Training Academy (PFTA).

                Elena blinked. “There IS no rule number six!” she recited, along with Parseval.

                “Exactamundo! A word I have never used before, and hopefully will never use again.” Hal commented off-hoofedly as he went to the EA console.

                Elena and Parseval exchanged nervous glances. Hal was up to something, and even though they knew the plans, they were not sure HOW he would do it. The only thing they were sure of was that it was going to be weird.

                Hal sat at the EA console again. He triggered the top-level alert tones, and waited while they played out. “This is a Severe Weather Warning for the south and west sides of the Greater Las Vegas area, including Charleston, Old Town Las Vegas, and Henderson.

                “A line of severe thunderstorms is forming south of Jean, heading northeast at thirty miles an hour, estimated by Colonel Stormcloud to reach Force Nine or higher before dissipating. However, the Colonel himself is ramping up the leading storm, along with his cronies, in a bid to take out the Strat’s radio towers ahead of a coup being led by the Energy secretary to remove General Blue Blizzard from command of the Nevada Aeronautical Society. With that sort of goings-on happening, I wouldn’t sweat the thunderstorms!

                “We here at Weather Control, Flights Two, Four and Six, will fix the Colonel’s little red wagon. Your job is to protect you and yours from the potential oncoming storms. This is Major Hal Sleet, duty officer for Weather Control, and the Rainbow King. I now return you to your unscheduled insanity, already in progress.”

                Hal turned away from the EA console to look at the shocked expressions of his co-workers. “I think some ponies will owe me a few favors tomorrow.” he said with a confident smile.

                “Hal, has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely insane?” Parseval asked.

                “Raven does, at least twice a day. Now that I’ve stirred the pot, let’s see about settling the hash.”

                Hal ordered sweep flights in front of the storm, to gauge its progress. True to the Colonel’s plan, it was indeed strengthening at a rapid pace, but with one oddity, that being there was no cloud-to-ground lightning. There was some in the cloud, but none going down. He dispatched an element of the White Team, a rook and a pawn, out to gauge the storm itself while the rest of White Team strung itself out along the path of the storm, under the guidance of the White Bishop.

                “White Rook Two to Rainbow King.” came a call.

                “Rainbow King. Go ahead, White Rook Two.”

                “Rainbow King, it appears that Black Team is using an insulation spell on the storm, causing it to intensify rapidly. They are blanketing the entire cloud base and sides with the insulation. They need the entire team for complete coverage. I’m estimating the storm at Force Seven and climbing, passing Sloan, SOA thirty.”

                “Roger that, White Rook Two. Maintain over watch of the storm, coordinate with your squadron to maintain coverage, especially after it passes! There could be an entraining effect after!” Hal told his subordinate.

                “Don’t try to teach an instructor something she already knows, Rainbow King!” Harper Tune laughed back.

                “Just checking, Harper. Have at!” Hal laughed back.

                “Roger that, oh lousy guitar player!”

                “Now you know why I use a standing bass, Harper! Rainbow King out!”



                After that report, Hal turned to his workmates. “Okay, time for some action. Red Queen, you’ll be in charge here while I’m out stormbusting. If I go full balls out, I’ll catch up with the leading edge hopefully by the old 160 interchange. That won’t allow me much time to punch through the blanket before it gets in range of the Strat.

                “Have White Team gang up on Black Team. Harass and distract them, so the blanket will weaken some. No combat, just harassing. After I leave, have Red Flight deploy behind me to handle anything that blows by. It’s going to be nasty.

                “Gold King, your responsibility is the city itself. Defend it from the worst of what’s coming. You have four squadrons to work with, so you should have the easy job.

                “Take care of your ponies, and mine. We may need everyone we can get our hooves on. Time for me to bust open this storm!

                “What do winning chess players say?” he called out.

                “CHECKMATE!” the three shouted as one.

                “I’m out of here!” Hal said as he left Control for the open skies.



                As he made his way south from the former Nellis Air Force Base, Hal talked to himself, to keep his focus. “Damn headwinds! I’m gonna have to get tricky to build any speed!” He started alternately climbing and diving, fighting the wind.

                The storm he could see ahead of him. It was building in strength and size, easily a mile wide if not more. Lightning flickered inside the cloud, but none reached the ground. “Time to mess around with Stormchaser’s head.” he said as he tuned to the Command frequency.

                “Rainbow King to Chessmaster One!” Hal called out.

                “What do you want, Sleet? I’m busy up here!” Stormcloud replied.

                “You’re going to be busier, Chessmaster. I’m coming out to bust this storm before it reaches the Strat! Blue Star spilled the beans, and I let everyone know over the EA system! You’re done for!”

                “Like hell I am, Sleet! I’m going to get my star, one way or another!”

                “That puzzled me when I first heard about this plot, weeks back. The penny fell when Blue Star filled in the gaps. The only star you want is a general’s star, and there are only two in the city, the Aeronautical Secretary and the Civil Defense chief. You’re not a real warrior, and Blue Blizz isn’t going to walk off the job any time soon.”

                “We’re going to make him look so inept, the Mayor and council will press for his retirement, and I’ll move up into his place.”

                “The hell you say, Silas. How did you get roped into this? I would think you’re above such things.” Hal asked.

                Stormcloud’s voice sounded a little distant, like he was focusing on something else. “Cornflower is my daughter, Sleet. We Returned together, because I was picking her up from a bar at the time of the Event, drunk off her ass. She has the head for governance. All I want is to be a general officer. Been my ambition for fifty years.”

                “You’re not going to achieve it, Colonel. I’m sure the Mayor will have something to say about that.”

                “There’s a lot going on you don’t know, Sleet. Some potent ponies will be after your ass, believe me.” 

                “I’m not about to let you destroy the transmitters, Chessmaster One. That’s my livelihood. My bread and butter. You’re not taking it from me.”

                “They can withstand a Force Nine bolt, Sleet. I checked.”

                “Those are the original specs, Chessmaster. Anything Force Six and up will overload the surge suppressors. I ought to know. I’ve pulled maintenance on them. A Force Nine strike will blow everything out. Repairs will take months at best!” Hal told the colonel.

                “I’m not about to give up now, Sleet! Not when I’m this close!”

                “You’re close, I’m closer. No way you are going to mess up my life! You’re going down, you and your group of cronies!”

                “If you think you can bust a Force Ten storm, Sleet, you’re higher than a kite!”

                “There ain’t enough string to hold me down, Colonel!”

                “Buzz off, Sleet. I’m busy!” the Colonel called back.

                “Have it your way, Chessmaster One. You’re losing this game! Rainbow King out!” Hal shouted as he switched frequencies.

                The flying got increasingly difficult as he neared the massive supercell, which had been gaining strength by the minute, feeding on itself in an odd form of positive feedback. The rain shaft under the storm was virtually opaque in its intensity. Hal made sure his flight goggles were securely placed on his head before plunging in.

                Flying inside the storm was as bad as Hal thought it would be. Rain and wind pushing him down, with some hailstones thrown in for variety. He found he had to fly up almost to the cloud base before he could get a good feel of the blanket Black Team had put up.

                Said blanket was growing as the storm grew, spreading wider- and thinner. Visibility was near zero, so he used other senses to feel for the storm center and for a high point on the ground below. Once he felt the point, he started building up his bolt. Confident, he tuned his transmitter to the Command frequency and keyed his mic.

                “Rainbow King to Chessmaster One!”

                “What are you doing, Sleet?” came the reply.

                “Declaring victory, Chessmaster! CHECKMATE!” Hal shouted before triggering the biggest bolt in his life, so far.

                The insulating blanket was spread wide and thin. Hal only had to penetrate it at one little point. A point no bigger than a pin, backed up by the biggest charge he could muster from the ground. The flash of light was enough to dazzle the pegasus, and the thunder was like a hammer blow, knocking Hal tumbling, dislocating his left wing and knocking him out momentarily. The lightning bolt was of a rare type, a vertical bolt, from ground to cloud, so intense he felt the heat from it before passing out,

                Hal recovered consciousness to find himself falling, helped by the wind and rain of the collapsing supercell. He tried to right himself, but his left wing complained mightily when he tried. So, his foggy mind reverted to an old part of his life- the submarine dive trainer back in New London, Connecticut. He trained long and hard how to pilot a sub, and now the old routines came to mind.

                “Emergency blow forward main ballast tanks, pump ten thousand pounds to after trim, full rise stern planes, fifteen rise on fairwater planes, engines back emergency! We need to get the bow up before we hit bottom!” Hal heard in his head.

                Slowly, his flight leveled off from a power dive to a more level flight, but still descending. “Okay, I think I’m going to pull out of this. Now to shed some speed. Why does my left side hurt? I need some more altitude! Got to pull up!” Hal thought as he tried just to remain stable in the tailwinds. “I wonder how close to the ground I am.”

                He didn’t have to wonder long as a hoof clipped something, causing him to lose control and slam into the ground, sliding across the sand before starting to tumble. Before passing out from the pain, one last thought crossed his mind. “Too damn close…”  ,
> Chapter Seven: Hello, Muddah...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hal became aware of a light surrounding him, that and a lot of pain. No, strike that, a LOT of pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see white light all around him, and the presence of someone. Turning to the presence, he beheld his mother, a white pegasus with brown mane and tail, and light gray wings.

                “Just what do you think you were doing out there, Chuckie? Do I have to yell at you like I do your father? How could you be so stupid?” she hollered at him.

                Hal was more than a little confused, because his mother had died thirty years before the Event, and was never a pegasus. He did get his love of flying and weather from her, she having been a private pilot, as was he. At least she lived long enough to see him get his pilot’s license. She did have one hell of a temper, though. “Mom… I have my reasons. What are you doing here?” he managed to say.

                “Taking a break from kicking your father’s ass from Phoenix to New York and back to yell at you, you idiot! Think about your wife and kids for once, Chuckie! You’re not a bachelor anymore!” she yelled, swatting at Hal with her wing. “You’re a married pony!”

                “I would think less of myself if I didn’t do what I did, Mom. It was a risk I felt I needed to take.”

                “Well, you’re here way too early, Chuckie! You can either stay here with us, or you can go back to Raven and the kids. The only question you have to ask yourself is which one will hurt more?” she asked piercingly, adding another swat to punctuate her words.

                “How do you know about Raven?”

                “We chat on occasion, both before and after you became horses. She’s a good girl for you.”

                “Looks like she wasn’t kidding when she says she spoke to you, Mom. There’s pain here?”

                “We’ll all be here to welcome you, WHEN you show up here on time. If you show up early, we will nag you for all time, Chuckie. Me, your father, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, and especially your first wife! We’re all lining up, waiting for you.” his mother told him.

                “Sue’s here? I hope she doesn’t mind Raven…” Hal said, sweatdropping some. He was engaged to marry Sue, only she was killed in a traffic accident while he was out to sea. Hal had never told his family about her, planning to come home with a wife on his arm, but that was not meant to be. He kept the pain of that loss hidden for a very long time.

                “She says if you don’t make Raven happy for a long time to come, she will make things miserable for you here! So, what you going to do, stay here or go back?” his mother demanded.

                Hal sighed. “Either way, it’s going to hurt. I might as well go back.”

                “Got that right, Chuckie. I’ll take you back.” She managed to get two feathers up Hal’s nostrils and led him by the nose to a black void, Hal squawking at the pain caused by the feathers. “You raise my grandchildren well!” she commanded as she tossed him into the void.



                Hal became aware of pain again, dull pain throughout his body. His eyes fluttered open, to reveal a hospital room. He tried to move, but found he was swathed in enough plaster of Paris to plaster Paris, being suspended in a rig to ease pressure on his body.

                “About time you woke up, Hal. It’s been three days.” a familiar voice said.

                “Where… what…?” Hal asked.

                “You’re in Vegas Central Hospital, Hal. The Dust Devils were monitoring the storm, and saw you take on Stormcloud and his cronies. After your flash and crash, Ace made pickup on you and got you here. You’ve been comatose for three days, with enough broken bones, cuts and scrapes to give Evel Kneivel a run for his money!” reported Raven. “You’re going to be a while knitting, even with the doctors working on you.”

                “Tower… safe?” Hal managed to ask.

                “Yes, it is. Your bolt hit the ruins of Luxor, dissipating the charge in the clouds and doing a number on the team building it up. You finally crash-landed somewhere around where the Venetian was, in terrible shape. They were sure you were dead, but Green Mane brought you around.”

                “You… kids… okay?”

                Raven looked at her husband, confused. “How did you know I had twins? I only delivered them two days ago!” she exclaimed, quite startled.

                “Mom told me… bitched me out good…”

                Raven snorted. “She would, not that you didn’t deserve it. Want to see them?”

                Hal tried to nod, but only managed to groan. Raven’s horn lit up with its characteristic pale violet glow, and a sleeping foal, wrapped in a blue blanket, was brought into his view. The foal was a unicorn, a deep blue horn protruding from its black brow, traces of a purple mane visible between the ears. “Your son, Black Onyx.”

                “Wonderful…” Hal managed to say before the colt was moved out of his sight and another one was moved into view. This one was a pegasus, with smoky gray fur the color of an overcast sky, a sky-blue mane and tail, and wings all the colors of the rainbow, each feather a different color.

                “Your daughter, Kaleidoscope.” Raven said as the filly opened her eyes. The eyes were like her wings, all different colors. The foal reached out with a hoof, tapped Hal’s nose and whinnied happily.

                Hal’s pain receded some at the touch of his daughter’s hoof, because he felt himself filling with pride and joy. “We’re all winners this day.” he managed to say.

                “You’re going to be hanging here for a while, Hal.” Raven told him as she put Kaleidoscope down. “I’ll have the doctor come in and check on you, now that you’re awake.”

                She then gave Hal’s cast a good shake with her power, making him moan in pain. “That’s for scaring me so damn much I had the twins early! You give me another fright like that and I’ll kick your sorry ass from here to Missoula and back!” she shouted, definitely angry.

                “Yes, you been talking to Mom, all right…” Hal groaned as the pain in his body flared and subsided.



                After Raven took the kids out of the room, Green Mane entered. The tan unicorn was holding a chart in her green glow. “Not smart to piss her off, Hal. Not that she doesn’t have reason to be pissed.” she said to Hal.

                “So, it’s a talent I have. She’ll survive. Will I?” Hal managed to ask.

                “Now that you’re awake, more than likely yes. You have twenty-six broken bones, scattered along your left side, foreleg, wing, ribs and hind leg included, a badly dislocated left wing, numerous cuts and scrapes, a long abrasion along your belly, and just how did you manage to scorch the feathers on both wings?” Green Mane asked, curious.

                “Must have been the lightning bolt. It was unusually intense, and rather close to me.” Hal managed to say.

                “Got that right. It was spotted from over here.” Green Mane said, adjusting a drip feed.

                “What about the others?”

                “We recovered them all. You were in by far the worst shape. In fact, you were clinically dead when you were brought here. Fortunately, I got you back. Wasn’t easy.”

                “Looks like I’ll have to set you up for an appearance on my show, once I get back to work.” Hal managed to say, feeling whatever medications he was being given numbing him to sleep.

                “It’s a deal. Sleep now, and you’ll have some more visitors tomorrow. Starting with the Mayor and working down.” Green Mane said drily.

                “Ho boy…” Hal muttered as he fell asleep. He had heckled the mayor numerous times on his show. Then again, he heckled anyone and everyone.



                The next day, Hal did have to endure a stream of visitors, medical, news, and political. Fortunately, he always had someone with him, be it Raven or Wordy or some of his other friends to help with the gentle and not-so-gentle interrogations. Sleeping twin foals do put a damper on noisy questioning. That and Raven’s baleful glare if the guests got a little pushy…

                In the afternoon, Mayor Good Deal himself put in a visit. The older red and black earth pony with a cutie mark of two pieces of paper held in a hoof, wearing his signature top hat, came up to where Hal hung in his cast. “Major Sleet, in recognition of your efforts in putting down the uprising, I am going to put your name in nomination for command of Weather Control. Lord knows we need new ones.” The Mayor said in his official speeches voice.

                “Mister Mayor, permission to speak freely?” Hal asked in a low voice.

                “You always do, Mister Sleet. It’s what makes you great on the radio. No reason to change now.”

                As Hal drew a deep breath, Raven warned, “Easy, Hal… calm down!”

                Hal said quietly, “Yes, dear.” He then looked at the Mayor, only moving his eyes. It was all he could move.

                “Mister Mayor, I will be honored to accept the position only if you would allow me to jam a lightning bolt so far up your ass you could pick your teeth with it!”

                When the mayor blinked in surprise, Hal managed to get his breath back. “Mister Mayor, I am a deejay playing the music I like, a part time stormbuster, and a new father. I am not an administrator or a politician.

                “If you really insist I take on that role, taking a position in the government, I will do so. But, my heart would not be in it. Let those who want to lord it over ponies do so. I’m happy just the way I am. Power and authority will just change me, and not for the better. Think about that.”

                Good Deal looked deep into Hal’s eyes, one of the few parts of his body not covered in plaster. “Son, I know an honest pony when I see or hear one. You must be one of the most self-honest ponies I have ever met. Such a thing would be a liability in politics. There, you would have to lie convincingly.”

                “I do that all the time. It’s called acting. You think Fonebone puts real go-juice in my coffee?” Hal managed to say. “I just can’t lie like a politician can. Makes me feel dirty. It took becoming a pegasus, and a father, to be clean with myself and others.”

                “You just keep on being you, Mr. Sleet. Do get well soon. Your fans miss you.” the Mayor said in a much friendlier voice. “I ought to know… I’m one of them.

                “Don’t think this will let you out of being honored by the city or the entire Colorado Cooperative. Once you get out of the hospital, you are going to be feted like few have been.”

                “That sounds like being tarred and feathered, Mister Mayor. If it wasn’t for the honor of the thing, I’d rather miss it.” Hal managed to say.

                The Mayor let out a good laugh, one echoed by first Raven, then the twins. “Nice one, Hal. But no, you won’t miss it. Now is my chance to heckle you back!”

                Hal let out a pained groan. “Of course, you know this means war, Mr. Mayor.”

                “I’ll throw the first pie at your celebratory dinner. Get well soon, Major Sleet. I need to get in some throwing practice,” the mayor managed to say, smothering a laugh.

                “You do that, Mr. Mayor. My therapy will allow me to get my practice in. Oh, did you round up the conspirators?”

                Good Deal immediately went serious. “We did, Major. The secretaries, their families, and all other major players have been locked up. I had IRT send them to Salt Lick, and their prison complex out on the Lake.” he said, IRT referring to a company called Interurban Rapid Transit, a family of unicorns that could open telegates between cities. Their services don’t come cheap, because there are not many of them. They are much faster than a train, and less capable of being intercepted. “I told them to throw away the key, but they are sending it to me. I’ll present it to you later.”

                “What about Weather Control? All the Black Team was in on the plot. That will leave us short-hoofed. Monsoon Peak has yet to arrive.” Hal said.

                “Colonel Strong Wing is handling that for now. She knows who to call if help is needed.” The Mayor said. “YOU need to heal and get back on the air!” He punctuated the statement with a hoof poke that stopped just before Hal’s body cast.

                “Pardon me if I don’t salute you, Mister Mayor. I’m a little stiff at the moment.”

                “You’re pardoned, Major. Get well soon, ponies miss you.” The Mayor said before leaving quietly.
> Chapter Eight: How to get pie-eyed in one easy lesson.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                It took about five days for Hal to heal enough, with the attention of healers and doctors, for the body cast to come off and his therapy to begin. That was harder for him to take than the immobility of the cast, but his wife, housemate, and most especially the kids helped him get through it. Either Black Onyx or Kaleidoscope was with him as he went through the hours of therapy he needed to get himself back in condition.

                When he wasn’t working on his therapy or getting treated by the doctors, he had a steady stream of visitors, reporters, friends and political figures. It turned out that his recovery was the talk of the town, his release eagerly anticipated. Four weeks after his therapy started, he was permitted to head home, with the stern admonition that he was to exercise daily.

                After release, the Mayor proclaimed that the upcoming Saturday will be known as Hal Sleet Day in the city, with a parade culminating in a party to be held at the Civic Center that evening. One thing that Hal insisted on, and both the Mayor and Blue Blizzard granted, was that the entire weather control team be honored that day, with only the minimum duty squadrons missing the parade. To his surprise, when the weather control ponies arrived, they were all wearing their chess piece shirts instead of the official ones, the new Chessmaster One, Elena Strong Wing, leading the flights.

                After the parade, Hal was not only honored with a dinner, he was roasted by the major movers and shakers in his life, with the roastmaster being his station manager, Stanley Livingstone. The head table was set in the shape of a large V, with Hal and his wife seated next to the point on one side, the tables going forward on each side. Wordy was narrating the newsreel being shot during the roast, which went on for over an hour, each speaker making Hal want to melt further in his seat. Finally, it was his time to get up and give a speech.

                “Friends, Ponies, Countryfolk, lend your ears to my jive, cause I’m going to tell you how to catch some evil malefactors alive.” he led off to much laughter.

                “The main thing to remember with all these yahoos up here, making me want to melt into my seat much of the night, is not to get caught doing anything to strike back at them.

                “For that, you call upon some help.” he said, looking straight out at the audience as a spray of ice water went from one end of the high table to the other. “Next thing you do is give them the cold shoulder.”

                The notable figures up on the dais squawked some at the unexpected soaking, but the audience loved it. “Actually, give them cold shoulders.” Hal said without missing a beat. “Thank you, Raven!” he called out, looking up to the ceiling just in time to see a cream pie heading down. He didn’t have a chance to get out of the way before impact.

                “If this is how you say, ‘you’re welcome’, I’m spending tonight with the kids.” he said in a bland voice, to the audience’s laughter.

                Hal looked back at the audience. “As I was saying, plausible deniability is a good thing.” He licked his nose. “Coconut cream. Why not lemon meringue?”

                Raven walked up next to him, giving him a kiss. Her horn sparked a little, and Hal found himself paralyzed, unable to do anything but blink. “That’s coming next, love. I believe His Honor the Mayor said he would throw the first pie. I just dropped one. He will throw the first, but by no means the last.”

                Raven backed away from Hal as the Mayor rose from his seat. “For the next two minutes, you’re the target, Hal!” she called out as she got out of the line of fire.

                The mayor’s throw was true, hitting Hal right in the head. “Strawberry cream.” he thought as it hit. To his horror, he saw everyone at the head table get up, bearing pies. “Now I know why the tables were set this way… to give good lines of fire…”

                When the blizzard of pies subsided, not an inch of Hal’s coat was clear of cream, his rainbow mane and tail buried. He snorted some cream clear of his nose. “Say good night, Hal.” Raven said.

                “Good night, Hal, and thanks for all the fish.” Hal said obediently as the entire audience erupted in applause. He was led out from the auditorium to a separate room, where he was scrubbed, dried, combed and a new suit put on him. The reception line was next up.

                “That wasn’t in the script, Raven!” Hal protested as he was neatened.

                “No, but you deserved it for being so crazy, Hal. Scaring me so bad I delivered the twins early, having you in a full cast for a week, in the hospital for a month, what did you think you were doing?” Raven yelled at him, the groomers taking no notice of the screaming fit.

                “Only what I thought was necessary, love. Even if I knew what was going to happen, I would not have done a thing different. Would you like to live here with Hard Ass running the NAS?”

                Raven wilted some at the question. “Not really.” she said weakly. “I would hate to leave BUMA, though.”
                “As much as I would hate leaving Retro Radio Two, I would say. If the coup was successful, I would sell everything, pack you, the kids, Wordy and Summer Sun onto a ship for Australia in a heartbeat!” Hal declared. “Now, let’s go have some fun